pretty noise and meaningless words
by dellums
Summary: A collection of ten itty-bitty drabbley-fics written to a collection of ten shuffled songs. Some sad, some not sad, all Zemyx, all rated T for some of the language in the songs - should you choose to listen to them.


**Author's Notes**: So I guess there's this thing where you put your music on shuffle and write to whatever song comes on? And you only get the length of the song to write. Someone suggested that I do this with Zemyx a while ago to get out of an unfortunate bout of writer's block, and they're all I can actually write at the moment anyway, so here I am!

In any case, I've never been any good at interpreting poetry, and as songwriting can _technically_ be seen as poetry (except a lot prettier, imo), I'm sure what I think the song means and what it _actually_ means will be completely different. Um, that's all. Just keep that in mind!

:D

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><p><strong>1.<em> "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" – <em>Muse.**

Bright and early on a Monday morning, Demyx was presented with a difficult task. It was difficult for approximately two reasons. First and foremost, it was a history project, which is just daunting enough all on its own. Secondly, though (and this is what made the assignment so dreadful) … secondly, he was partnered with Zexion. Oh, Zexion.

Bitter, nerdy, lonesome, cute, little Zexion.

It was possibly the most difficult thing his teacher had ever asked him to do. During the entire period, their hands kept bumping when they wrote because Demyx was left-handed and Zexion right, they kept opening their mouths to say something at the same time, they had to share a text book and lean in uncomfortably close to read it, and most embarrassing of all, Zexion kept _looking_ at him. Like, looking-looking. With something in his eyes, something more than just a dark wall of blue, something… weird and unsure, thoughtful, maybe? Something, dare he say… _gentle_?

Demyx couldn't sit still; whenever he flicked his eyes up and caught Zexion's on him, he would fidget anxiously and knock all his papers off his desk.

It wasn't until after school that he got a chance to ask his boyfriend why he had been so _strange_ during second period, but the only response he got was more staring. A tiny, microscopic smile blossomed on his face (which is a new record for Zexion, actually!), and then Zexion nudged Demyx's arm with his own and connected their hands in the process. "I love you," he said, and that was a new record, too.

**2._ "Don't You" – _Darren Criss.**

By now, Zexion wasn't just annoyed. He was almost in a rage. A couple more minutes, two more phone calls, and one more _second_ of another love song, and he might turn himself in to the police before he did something horrible to someone.

Demyx wouldn't give up, though. It was always persistence with him, even when Zexion had made it perfectly clear. Clearer than clear. Like cellophane, in fact, plain as day, spoken straight to his face in bolded, capitalized letters, "**NO, I WILL NOT GO OUT WITH YOU**."

And then the phone was ringing, and Zexion picked it up, ready to toss the entire receiver out the window and run over it a few times with his father's truck for good measure. When he lifted the phone to his ear, he heard the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar on the other end, and a soft, crooning voice accompanying it. So, it was another love song. Zexion checked his clock. The fifth song of the hour, to be exact. He listened blankly until Demyx finished, ending with a flourish and a light note.

"Are you done."

"That depends on your answer," Demyx said cheekily.

"No," Zexion replied, monotonous and not even close to surrendering.

"I'm not giving up," he sang joyfully, "not until you say you'll go out with me."

"Never." And he hung up for the fifth time that night, definitely not sitting next to his telephone and waiting for another phone call. Of course not.

**3._ "Cut Here" – _The Cure.**

No… it couldn't be. You hadn't seen him for… for… what had it been? Months? Years? Almost a lifetime, surely.

But you look closer. You look and you _see_ and he has the same stupid hair and the same pretty eyes and the same guitar case decorated with stickers, the blue case that bumps his legs when he walks, and it's definitely him.

You almost run right into him because you're too busy staring at your feet while you walk, hoping he doesn't notice you, hoping to avoid an awkward conversation and awkward "hello how are you"s. But of course he notices. Of course. With those pretty eyes.

Demyx lightly touches your arm as you try to walk past him, and he smiles. "Hey… Hey, Zexion!"

And then it starts. You exchange "hello how are you"s, but only yours is awkward. He's loose, like always. Comfortable.

Then he asks you to hang out later, to go get some coffee or something. Or tea, he says, _you still like tea, right?_ But he's the same person. You know. You can see it in his eyes. He hasn't changed one bit, and that might be for the better in the long run, but for you and your feelings? You and your _heart_? It's a disaster. You feel only a little bad for lying, but you decline his offer, claiming that, "Another day, perhaps. Maybe I'll be free another day…"

It isn't until later – almost three weeks later – when you're at home and thinking too much. Thinking about Demyx again. Thinking about his last goodbye and his eyes and his guitar case, covered with stickers. It isn't until then that you wish you could go back and change your answer.

**4._ "I See Everything" – _Hans Zimmer (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows OST).**

Demyx takes Zexion by the hand, trying hard not to burst into a fit of laughter as they swirl around the edge of the dance floor, all elegant ties and coattails and blurs or color.

"Demyx…" Zexion warns him lowly, squeezing his hand a bit too tight and casting his eyes around nervously.

"Relax, Zex. It's a wedding. Weddings are for dancing and stuff, right?" he whispers to him, smiling a bit as more people begin to look at them and raise their eyebrows and whisper.

"Not when it's my _aunt_'s wedding," he whispers back, trying to wrench his hand from Demyx's grip or step on his polished shoes or _anything_. Demyx's avoids each stomp with the panache of a professional ballroom dancer. One look around and Zexion can already see his aunt staring at them, holding on to her new husband and looking sick and green. "_Especially_ not when my aunt's a _homophobe_."

"This is nothing. Wait till I get you under that mistletoe over there," he snickers, moving them backwards through a crowd. "How quaint of your dear aunt to have her wedding on Christmas day, hm?"

Zexion turns red and mumbles something unintelligible and makes mental plans to never invite Demyx to anymore weddings.

**5._ "Turn on Me" – _The Shins.**

Demyx bites his lip in thought, looking at Zexion from the corner of his eye. He's just sitting there, blinking down at his hands resting in his lap. It's frustrating for Demyx, as much as he tries to change it. He can't tell what Zexion's thinking anymore. He can't read his feelings like he used to be able to. Most concerning of all, he isn't even sure if his own feelings are even still… reciprocated. Appreciated. _Acknowledged._

He knows, kind of, that the whole thing felt kind of too good to be true, anyway. Why would Zexion even want him in the first place? Demyx wasn't smart. He wasn't really good at much. But still… it hurt. Because he tried, he really _did_. And he thought he'd done well. They'd lasted a year, hadn't they? One happy year. And Axel had always said that if they made it through a year, then there was no doubt they'd make it another one.

He wouldn't believe they didn't belong together. They would always belong together. Demyx never got that feeling in his chest with anyone else. He never wanted to hug or kiss anyone but Zexion. And after it was all over, when Zexion finally admitted what Demyx had assumed from that day, the day when he realized they weren't on the same page – when it was over, Demyx's heart wasn't in any of the "I love you"s he robotically churned out to anyone else. His heart was somewhere else, and Demyx wished him all the best.

**6._ "Back to Black" – _Amy Winehouse.**

It was messy. Not soft and easy like scissors cutting through paper. Not painless like falling onto a bed of pillows and feathers after a long day.

It was harsh. Tearing a photograph into pieces. Dropping from a cliff into a canyon of glass shards. Heart surgery without anesthesia.

The words left his mouth easily, because he'd been waiting to do it. For a long time, both of them knew. As cruel as it was, they knew that their whole relationship had only been building up to this, but neither of them wanted to see the signs. They ignored them until it was unbearable, and Zexion was the first to crack through the wall of silence and ignorance.

It was simple: "Goodbye."

But Demyx felt it like a brick in his chest. Swallowing past the painful lump in his throat, Demyx nodded and said his goodbyes as well.

The worst part was watching him walk away. It hurt, but Demyx did it anyway, trying to hold onto him as long as possible. It didn't work. He was gone within seconds, and that's when Demyx fell and shattered, his heart heavy and weighing him down. He crashed to the ground and broke.

**7._ "I'm Your Villain" – _Franz Ferdinand.**

He didn't know why he enjoyed it so much. Maybe because he used to get bullied in middle school. Maybe it was some kind of cheap thrill. Maybe there was something psychologically wrong with his brain and he needed to get professional help.

All Zexion knew was that there was something about Demyx that pissed him off.

Well, mostly.

Secretly, he loved him. He was almost infatuated with him. His heart beat and ached for the dorky blond. He wanted him more than he wanted a good gulp of oxygen each day. But he couldn't possibly show any of that. Outside, he was a sociopath. Outside, he only cared for himself.

Everything Demyx said, Zexion turned back against him. Anything he did was so thoroughly pulled apart and analyzed right in front of him that Zexion was sure he had hit home more than once, doing an even better job of turning Demyx into a science experiment than his own therapist could do, judging by the hurt look on his face. It made Zexion feel good to know that he could make someone feel so utterly bad about themselves with nothing but words. Pure, invisible, beautiful, English words.

Zexion would probably continue with this… this whatever it was. This cheap thrill. He would keep doing it until the day Demyx stopped making him want to tear his hair out, until Demyx made him stop wanting to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him senseless and breathless and lifeless.

And… the chances of that were increasingly negative. Zexion smirked. Poor Demyx. Poor Demyx, indeed.

**8._ "Always" – _Panic! at the Disco.**

Zexion didn't know it, but Demyx was more than just simply _in love_ with him. _In love_ was too much of a cliché. Too overdone. Everyone these days was _in love_.

The feeling went deeper than just that. It didn't course through his heart and his brain in the form of one little L-word. It swam through his veins and his bones and into his fingers and down to his toes, leaving something so marvelous behind that Demyx would always prefer it to any drug, any stimulant, any new experience. He would always choose Zexion.

Zexion didn't take it for granted. He just wasn't aware of Demyx's true feelings. He knew about the love, but anything more than that, he was completely oblivious to. He didn't know what it did to Demyx when he fell into his arms every night and cried his eyes out. It hurt more than just his heart to hold him while his sobs died down into painful hiccups and tired sniffles. But as much as it hurt, Demyx was there. He wanted to help him as much as possible, to be the one thing he could always look up to in his sad excuse for a life. The one page of a tragic story that he could always come back to, bookmarked and dog-eared and loved. So he trooped on through the pain with a smile, holding Zexion's hand and kissing him on the forehead, whispering soothingly to him until he fell asleep.

**9._ "Music Again" – _Adam Lambert.**

"How do you do it?" he asked, watching Demyx carefully over his book. He hadn't actually been reading. He couldn't concentrate on the sentences drifting across the pages like clouds. At Demyx's confused glance, he put his book down and leaned forward. "You. You make me so… _happy_."

Demyx blinked wide. That sounded… _almost_ like a compliment. But the tone was one of disgust. Zexion _spit_ the word, as if it were poisonous. "I'm, uh. Sorry…?"

"It's not bad. It's just… no one has had that effect on me. I don't understand," he responded thoughtfully. "You make me want to do all these things. Things that I normally… don't want to do."

"Like what?" Demyx said, smiling and chuckling a bit.

Zexion thought. "Like adopt a kitten. Or blow bubbles. Or buy a horrible CD and listen to it on loop. Or make… cupcakes." He wrinkled his nose, looking slightly horrified. "With sprinkles."

"Those aren't bad things, you know," Demyx mumbled into his coffee mug, trying to hide his smile. "We can make cupcakes tonight, if you want. And it's supposed to snow. I think I still have my ABBA CD somew—"

"No, I don't actually _want_ to do those things," Zexion clarified, shaking his head. "It's just weird. My mom used to try to make me do all those things when I was little, and I would throw fits until she sent me to bed early." He frowned, remembering being locked up in his room without dessert. "Now, though, I just have this _urge_ to skip through a field and… I don't know, collect lady bugs. Or something."

Demyx's imagination blew that image up to fullscreen and he coughed violently, choking on his coffee and shaking with laughter so hard that he didn't notice when Zexion rolled his eyes and walked away.

**10._ "Boom" – _Anjulie.**

It wasn't too late, Demyx told himself, heart racing and palms sweaty. It wasn't too late to get him out of his mind. It was like a plague, the thought of him, showing up in weird places, filling him with a heat that could be mistaken for a fever, making him babble like an idiot. All he needed was a few days of bedrest, surely. Just to stay home for a while, far, far away from him, that would certainly do the tri –

Oh, no.

Demyx's eyes widened almost comically as he saw Zexion walking up to him. He tightened his arms around the folder he was carrying, gripped the strap of his backpack harder until his fists were clenched white around it, licked his lips and focused on putting one foot carefully in front of the other.

It was okay. Just forget him, Demyx. He's not even that good-looking. He doesn't even listen to good music or – or play video games or anything. _Forget him. He's not right for you._

… But oh – oh, god. He was _looking_ at him. Demyx felt his heart skip a beat, felt his breath evaporate into a sad little wisp of carbon dioxide and float away, love-struck and vulnerable. It was sick, almost, how devastatingly _loud_ his heart was pounding against his own ribcage, thumping out a quick-paced beat. Surely, the whole world could hear it.

Zexion closed the distance with two more steps, raising his eyebrows at the pale look on Demyx's face. "Are you okay? You like kind of sick…"

"Fine. Fine, 'm fine, I need to… need… I have to… oh, _god, _I _can't_." Demyx's heart then proceeded to detach itself from his brain and take over his body, actions included. Dropping his folder, Demyx grabbed Zexion's hand and pulled him closer and kissed him so harshly that their teeth clashed and Zexion jumped back with his hand over his mouth.

"What is _wrong _with you? I'm bleeding…" Zexion frowned as he tasted copper in his mouth.

The floodgates opened and his heart settled itself back in place, slowly deflating, only to be pumped full of gallons and gallons of misery. "I was trying to be romantic…" (In retrospect, that's not something one should say to their best friend).

Zexion seemed to take the news better than Demyx had assumed and his gaze softened momentarily. "… Well, try again later when we're not in the middle of a hallway, okay?" He hissed again in pain, touching his lip and looking at the blood. Rolling his eyes, he walked past Demyx and took a left into a classroom .

"… Try again… _later_…?"

Demyx's heart was quickly resurrected.


End file.
